Maybe I'll Find Some Peace Tonight
by Veritas Lilly
Summary: When times are hard and lives are torn apart by war, a little friendship can go unimaginably far.


Well, it's a rather uninspiring night and I have yet another twisted wrist but hey, I'm giving this writing thing a go in a different category.

First of all, I would like to say a huge thank you to all those who read and/or reviewed 'When Silence falls'. I removed it, not because of the response to it but because of my own dissatisfaction with it. In time I may improve it but it doesn't seem likely somehow.

For now though, Harry Potter is my chosen fandom and I may reach even farther into the fandom by writing slash with my very good friend from school Falconwings14 but for now this story is no slash friendship between Harry and Draco.

I realise that as J.K Rowling has written, Harry and Draco will probably never be friends but let me indulge myself. I have also read the sixth book but I won't spoil it. (Coincidentally, I read it in two days)

**Summary: **When times are hard and lives are torn by war, a little friendship can go unimaginably far.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter. All characters, names and base events are property of Joanne Kathleen Rowling, Warner Brothers ltd and Bloomsbury publishing. I make no financial gain from this venture.

**Warnings:** None that I'm aware of.

**Rating:** K+ (Ratings for swearing)

Maybe I'll find some peace tonight

Veritas Indolentia Adamo

"Ron!"

"Harry"

"Ron, listen to me!"

Seventeen year old pure blood wizard Ronald Weasley spun around harshly to face his best friend, who hung determinedly behind him. Hard, angry, unforgiving icy blue eyes met imploring and desperate emerald eyes. To Ron, they were eyes that begged for something impossible.

"What Harry, what? What is this problem you have with me marching? Am I suddenly an invalid? Does the trust you used to have in me count for nothing?"

The other, Harry Potter, allowed his gaze to drift slowly to floor as he felt the fiery redhead's temper-fuelled rage burn his face.

Slowly, the boy who lived lifted his head and gazed pleadingly into the slightly taller boy's furious face.

It was only then that Harry realised the full strength and determination behind Ron's need to do this. Harry had feared it was to avenge the death of his brother Charlie at the hands of a Death Eater last year but now he saw it went deeper, rooted it's intenseness so deep into the man's core that it would not budge. It appeared, however unwillingly, they had both let war harden them against all that could hurt them. But of course there were always exceptions.

Harry felt a surge of anger rise within him as heat and blood rushed to his faith. He decided swiftly to use it to his advantage,

"And what about Hermione?"

At the mention of the witch's name, both boys flinched inwardly. Harry at his bravery and Ron at Harry's carelessness.

Ron recovered quick enough to fire a harsh retort;

"Well she can't exactly tell me off can she? She's gone, Harry! She's gone! And I have you to thank."

The hard and angry tone hit Harry like a wall collapsing on his head. It knocked the breath from his body and all feeling faded. In all the years they had been friends, all of the rows they had ever had, this was the worst insult Ron had ever fired at Harry and he wasn't finished.

"Wherever you go, somebody you care about dies! First your parents then Sirius then Hermione! You can't help yourself can you? You can't bear the idea of anyone having the glory because you can't!"

That was enough for Harry's anger to feed on to equal that of Ron's.

"This isn't about the bloody glory, Ron! This is about you wanting revenge for Hermione's death. Your utter desperation to make sure that nobody trespasses against you path!"

Ron stood indifferent. Harry continued to rant.

"You know I didn't ask to be the sodding Golden Boy."

"Oh don't start this 'poor-little-me' record you've been playing for years, Harry"

"I'll say whatever I damn well choose to!"

Ron had evidently had enough but Harry would not let him forget. Not now.

"Don't you dare!" he yelled, so forcefully pushing Ron back round to face him that the red-headed boy stumbled and fell against a wall. Harry pushed him back harshly and drew himself close to the vengeful boy.

"You listen to me! You have no idea what it's like to be me. You have no idea what it's like to have to wake up every morning to wonder why you had to be the boy who lived and not the boy who died with everybody else!"

Harsh breathing filled this silence as Harry slowly began to ease away from Ron, turning his head away and furiously blinking hot tears from his eyes as memories of the worst times flashed before him. He tried so hard and only just held on as Ron seemed to finally realise how much Harry had implied with just once more 'playing the record'. It was enough. For both of them.

As Ron eased himself away from the wall, he looked at Harry carefully.

"Harry, I-"

"Oh save it, Ron. You said enough." Harry turned hard, cold eyes on the quailing red head as tears began to pool inevitably in the emerald depths. Shadows of lack of sleep blacked out his pale skin. His hair was dull and more scruffy than usual. He was very thin and looked blatantly exhausted. After a moment's silent regarding, Ron voiced his concern.

"You don't look well, Harry."

Frustration flittered across the sallow face and the look of bitterness thrown at Ron was one that the young Weasley believed closely resembled that of one Severus Snape, the Death eater turned Potions Master that neither had seen for years.

"Thanks for noticing" came the dry, humourless response.

Another moment's silence and Harry picked himself up, mentally gathered himself in and looked Ron straight in the eye.

"I'm going back. I suppose I'll see you at some point tomorrow but it's late."

Then added as an afterthought

"I have work to do."

A slight nod from Ron and the Chosen One was off. Rubbing furiously at his red, salty eyes, as if trying to rub away the memories of the death s of nearly everyone he had loved.

&&&&&&&

For nearly a year, Draco Malfoy had resigned himself to living in the filth and squalor. He was not penniless, far from it but obligations held him elsewhere and a new found friendship with Harry Potter bought him to the battle ground.

It had been a year ago, that whilst war was at its height and death had been ubiquitous, Harry had come to the snobbish Slytherin and declared no war against the house. Or him.

Bridges had been built, compromises shared but most importantly, a friendship that could survive almost anything had been born. There was trust, there was deep respect and there was an unquestioning loyalty to one another that the quick tempered and brash of Harry's remaining Gryffindor friends could not understand.

Draco and Harry had stood by each other. Harry had been there when Draco's house had painfully disowned him and Draco for Harry when times had gotten so hard, the pressure so much that all the boy could do was cry or weep for his lost friends. It was the sort of bond that didn't need to have been around for long to be so deep it was nearly unbreakable.

That was why on a cold, blustery night on the front, Draco Malfoy was almost fully prepared for Harry to come home in a rage. Only almost prepared because harry's rages were so unpredictable it was impossible and dangerous to underestimate them. And so Draco had calmed himself fully so he could help Harry do the same when he did arrive.

On this night however, there was no rage, no real forceful anger. When Harry came through the door of the fairly mangled hut, Draco was more puzzled than anything.

Following the unsettled raven-haired seventeen year old into the sitting area, Draco sat himself down as Harry fumed silently over the small rickety space reserved for preparing what sparse food they had. Draco could feel the waves of heat emanating from the tense body before him but that was not all. Hurt. Pain. It was amazing he had not cracked under the pressure, the silver haired boy thought concernedly.

After a moment, Harry turned round to face Draco. Draco stood slowly looking at Harry intently and saying nothing until Harry came and sank into the chair beside him stiffly. Draco sat with him, gazing upon him with more concern than any other could probably muster.

"What happened, Harry?" Draco asked carefully.

Harry seemed to contemplate his answer, unwilling to admit to himself that Ron may never look upon him the same again. That he had possibly lost another of his friends to a curse. The curse, the death wish of war.

"Ron and I…we…he…" he trailed of, not being able to find the words to express the sheer misery that held him, morphing him into something that he hated. Harry Potter was controlled. But tonight, was different.

"Harry it's ok I understand." Said the blond smiling gently as he laid a careful hand upon the raven boy's shoulder.

Harry smiled, grateful for the comfort and faith that simple gesture held.

But the smile did not last long. It fell, as did Harry's defences as Draco pulled him into a genuine one-armed hug as the dam broke and Harry began to sob. They wracked his slight frame before pushing forth and exploding. All the pain Harry had bottled for so long since Hermione's death and Ron's defiance of…everything. Draco held Harry close in his one-armed hug; there was nothing to be done except wait for Harry to tire himself out or to find some peace within himself. It was a long time coming.

Draco could do nothing but wait and hope that Harry would finally find some measure of peace tonight.

&&&&&&&

Well, that's me done for the night, I will reviewer respond as soon as I can. Tell me if you want me to continue or not but the final decision will be mine and mine alone. I'm just so evil that way.

Anyway I leave you with the knowledge that I love reviews and constructive criticism is welcomed however flames… let's just say I have many many marshmallows. Many many marshmallows.

Hope you enjoy the story

G'night

Mel


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